In the Moment
by HeartandHome
Summary: Kurt and Jane share a moment on the plane. But what happens when one moment becomes more? Will Kurt and Jane continue to deny the tension brewing between them? Or will they embrace the bond that makes them an unstoppable team?
1. Chapter 1

_"When we were separated in the woods I kept thinking about you…and me, and Taylor Shaw…we're in this together."_

I came so close to blurting out my feelings for him on the plane, for confessing the fear and pain I'd felt at the thought of losing him. But then the plane shook, our eye contact broke for just a second – and I floated back to reality. We weren't alone, no matter how much it felt like we were. I glanced back up into those dark blue eyes hesitantly. Why on earth was he smiling like that? And why did I suddenly find it so hard to breathe?

"How can you fly a chopper out of a combat zone and still be scared of a little turbulence?"

I chuckled softly, cringing at the breathy sound. His smile drifted into smirk territory; this wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. I resisted the urge to wet my lips as his hands settled over mine, an attempt to settle my nerves, but one that instead drove them over the edge. How was I supposed to think, let alone answer his question, when he was holding onto me? His thumb passed back and forth over my pulse and I blushed. Damn the man, didn't he know what he was doing to me?

"I think it's got something to do with being in control."

At the word control, he gave me an imperceptible nod, as if an answer to my unspoken question. Maybe I wasn't imagining it, maybe I wasn't the only one affected. I waited for him to let go, to release the hold he had over me literally and metaphorically, but Weller it seemed had other plans.

He spent the rest of the plane ride holding onto my hands, running his thumbs along the backs, and intertwining our fingers together when we weren't under the watchful gaze of Zapata. She knew something. Every now and then I caught her aiming a knowing look at Weller; those were the only moments when he tore his eyes away from me, the only time he stopped the languorous stroking of my skin. _Kurt_. I tried not to let that look bother me, but I was more than a little curious. What had gone on out there in the woods?

There hadn't been any time to catch up, to be alone, but somehow this was the closest Weller and I had been since our mutual decision for space. A failed experiment if ever there was one, I thought ruefully. If I wasn't mistaken, the bond between us was somehow stronger than ever. _But would it last_. I kicked that annoying doubt down, choosing instead to enjoy mimicking the movements of his hands. Each feather soft touch of my fingers against his wrist created an almost imperceptible reaction. At first the smirk dropped, then his blue-gray eyes narrowed, his mouth opened just a hair, and he shifted in his seat. I took more than a little pleasure in these tiny reactions, savoring them, tucking them away just in case he turned back into reserved Weller on the ground.

It was another hour before we landed, another deliciously torturous hour. We had hardly begun the descent before I too was squirming in my seat. We hadn't said much over the last hour, but the smoldering gaze that raked over my body was more than enough to make me slick and in need of relief. When his hands released mine, my body mourned the loss of his warmth. If I hadn't had sex dreams about Kurt Weller before, I was certainly going to have them tonight.

Weller's hand wrapped around my elbow, helping me stand and lingering just a moment longer than it should have. What would it be like I wondered to have those large hands roaming the length of my body, touching my most intimate parts. I hadn't craved a man in a long time but my body was certainly making up for it now.

"I need to speak to you" he whispered huskily, his lips less than an inch from my ear.

I could feel my entire body tense up as his hand slid down to the small of my back. Dread filled me the closer we got to the door of the plane. Out there was reality – Weller and Jane Doe, partners in crime fighting but little more. That door represented the unnatural aloofness we'd created and smothered heat. I wasn't ready to go back to that, not yet. Reade and Zapata were well ahead of us, no witnesses, if ever there was a time to take advantage of our closeness now was it.

I stopped suddenly in the middle of the aisle sending Weller's toned body crashing into my own. There was something so natural about the way his hands grasped my shoulders, pulling me against him instead of allowing me to topple forward. He didn't comment on the sudden stop, didn't complain, but he didn't let go either. His hands slid down my arms slowly, coming to rest on my waist. I leaned my head back against one broad shoulder as he played with the midriff of my shirt.

I could definitely get used to this. Outside the window Reade and Zapata were on their phones, no doubt reporting to Patterson and Mayfair that we arrived safely. I couldn't care less who they were talking to as long as Kurt's fingers kept up their exploration of my pale flesh.

In the end it was the beeping of Weller's phone that brought us crashing down to reality. He tried to angle it away from my line of sight, but not nearly quick enough. Zapata. I glanced out the window only to find her glaring up at us in annoyance. Weller stiffened and nudged me forward, the barrier between us sliding firmly back into place. Now more than ever I wanted to know what had gone on in those woods.


	2. Chapter 2

_"It is one thing if you won't admit it, it is something else if you don't even know it."_

Zapata was right of course. At first I was able to deny it – to the team, to Mayfair, to myself. It started the moment I laid eyes on her through the glass, this physical reaction. I hadn't had a real relationship since Felicia; a beautiful woman in need of my help, with eyes that reminded me so much of the young girl I'd lost. It made sense that I would feel so drawn to her.

But then I sat with her, talked with her, watched with baited breath as she touched first my hands then my face. There was something about that haunted look, the wide doe eyes as she wracked her memory, which tapped into every protective instinct I have. And it only got worse from there. She survived beatings, shootings, saved lives. She's a soldier if ever I saw one, and yet so incredibly vulnerable in my arms.

Everyday I found myself drawn closer and closer to Jane – looking forward to seeing her in the mornings, talking to her, training with her. Training in particular – it was one of the few times I could get physical with her and not raise any eyebrows. It all seemed so obvious now; the lingering glances, the electricity that ran through my body as I hovered over her, our chests heaving from exertion. Denial was a powerful thing.

I ignored the stirring in my gut as today's development on the plane replayed for the fourth time since we touched down. I needed to talk to her, clear the air, make a decision. There were too many variables, too much was up in the air, and it was beginning to affect my judgment. Zapata didn't seem to care that I felt something for Jane, only that I hadn't acknowledged it to myself. And she was right. I couldn't keep lying to myself, pushing down the evidence of my desire to possess her, not if I wanted to keep her and the team alive.

My jaw was clenched the entire debriefing. Every time I made eye contact with Jane her frown grew a little deeper. She was confused after our moment on the plane, that much was obvious, but I couldn't help it. The team had done a good job; I should be flooded with that triumphant high I always got after closing a case. Instead, all I wanted was to get Jane alone.

"Now go home and get some sleep."

Mayfair opened the door and I practically sprinted out, in desperate need of some air and a cold shower. This thing with Jane wasn't going to be resolved overnight – even if we did talk about it. I still wasn't convinced the talking part needed to happen. I needed to think.

* * *

"Kurt?"

I was busy rubbing one of the plush white towels against my head when our eyes met in the mirror. Big doe eyes that traveled down the length of my naked torso to the towel slung casually about my hips. The ease of the warm shower from only a moment ago was gone, replaced with a familiar tension. I was going to kill Sarah for this. If the commotion in the front hall was any indication – my darling sister had every intention of Jane finding me like this. The door slamming shut behind her and Sawyer was hardly subtle.

"I can wait in the living room," Jane mumbled.

I tilted my head toward the tub against my better judgment and was more than a little pleased when she perched on the edge. It was such an intimate act, her watching me while I groomed. Every now and then I glanced at her through the mirror and got transported five, ten, fifteen years into the future. It was hard to pinpoint when the daydream began but I knew where it ended. One moment I was lost in thoughts of our future and the next I was keenly aware of her fingers trailing across the width of my shoulders.

"Jane…"

The feel of her lips on my skin silenced me; this was a bad idea, a terrible idea, then why the hell did it feel so good. It had been too long since I'd felt this comfortable in someone else's presence. _To say nothing of someone touching you like this_. I closed my eyes as she continued placing soft kisses across my skin. My body would've liked nothing more than to let her keep going, but I knew better. I had to be the one to put distance between us or else it would all go wrong. We needed to talk. And talking was about to become very hard if she kept doing that.

I turned, placing my hands squarely on her shoulders. There it was, that vulnerable look in her eyes, the desperate need for acceptance. I had to do this right or else any hope I had, realistic or otherwise, was gone.

"Kurt, don't push me away, not again"

I cursed under my breath. How could one soft utterance make a bigger hole in me than any gun ever had?


	3. Chapter 3

The words flooded out of my mouth before I could stop them, leaving me more naked than the night I stepped out of the bag in Times Square. Why the hell did I say that? Now things were going to be even more awkward. Weller's jaw clenched and unclenched several times, his hands simultaneously keeping me close and keeping me away. After a minute of silence I gathered the nerve to gaze up at him defiantly. At least I said part of what was on my mind. Every time he pushed me away it hurt. That was just a fact, and if he didn't like it? Well there wasn't much I could do about that.

"I don't want to."

I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the warmth in his voice, the way he trailed off as he often did when he revealed something he'd meant to keep hidden. His hands slid up and down my arms, loosening their grip a fraction, and I enjoyed that too. Dr. Borden had suggested on my first day at the FBI that I needed to try new things, make new choices, and allow my body to figure things out. And I had. I'd snuck out of the safe house, wandered the streets, taken subways, and made small talk with strangers. He was right of course; making those choices made me feel more in control, more human. But there was one thing I hadn't felt comfortable trying, no matter how many bars I went to, I hadn't been able to take a man to my bed.

"Jane?"

Kurt's voice, husky and deep, brought with it a revelation. I was incredibly dense at times. I leaned into his hand as he cupped my face, gazing into those piercing eyes. None of those men, no matter how attractive, had been Kurt. He was the new choice I wanted to make, the only choice I wanted to make where men were concerned. His thumb grazed my cheekbone, pulling me out of my own head. Concerned. After my shameless crossing of boundaries, and his instinct to revive them, he was still concerned about what I was feeling. How easy would it be, I wondered to push those boundaries? How hard would I have to push before Weller, my protector and lead agent, would become Kurt, my friend and lover?

"I should probably let you get dressed if we're going to have a conversation."

The words stuck in my throat and his smile grew, his eyes dropping to my lips. The man was impossible. I huffed as I broke contact with him, walking out onto his balcony. One minute he wanted to create distance, the next he was silently eradicating it with those expressive eyes and clenched jaw. And after a day like today, all I wanted was to taste him, to reassure myself he was real. I had just succumbed to a delightful fantasy of Kurt writhing beneath me on the balcony when the door slid open behind me.

He certainly hadn't wasted any time. It was more than a little hard to tamper down the butterflies, flitting about my stomach.

"What are you doing out here?" he said, pulling my body towards him.

I tried not to react, finding little more than my tank top between his chest and my back. At least he was wearing pajama pants.

"I thought I'd get some air."

There it was again, that breathy tone I hardly even recognized, and his knowing chuckle in response. In the brief moments we'd shared like this, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that we could be more than teammates. In times like these our relationship, with all the messy threads it entailed, made sense. We just seemed to fit together, two pieces of the same puzzle. So instead of questioning it, I let myself give into the moment. We stood there in silence for several minutes, enjoying the contact I'd craved for longer than I'd like to admit, watching the city come alive.

And when he took my hand in his own, pulling me inside, I didn't even question it. Just like I didn't question it when he shut off the lights in the kitchen, checked the chain on the front door, and led me into his bedroom. It was very Kurt– rich colors, but simple - stable. It was everything I'd come to appreciate about him. I watched Kurt turn down the bed as naturally as if we'd been together for years, before shucking off my shoes and unbuttoning my jeans.

My undergarments were hardly flattering, provided as they were by the FBI, but the way Kurt looked at me – it didn't matter. He rummaged through the drawers for a pair of clean flannel boxers and tossed them to me. They were a little loose and I didn't sleep in any sort of pants, but I understood his meaning. Tonight wasn't about sex. The desire was there, strong even, but that was for another time. Kurt waited until I crawled into the right side of the bed, before curling up behind me.

I reached for the light, bathing us in darkness – and that's when he began to speak. He talked about the duty he'd felt his entire life to finding Taylor, he talked about his duty to the FBI, and for a second I thought he was warning me off him despite his very obvious desire to keep me close.

"Jane, what we're doing here, now." He kissed my hair. "It's good and I want it – want you. But that doesn't make it any less complicated."

Complicated. Our professional relationship was complicated. My existence was complicated. This? I snuggled back against him, pressing my lips against his knuckles. This wasn't complicated. In this moment, in the dark, we were just a man and a woman. Two people who needed each other, wanted to keep each other safe. That wasn't complicated at all.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't know what I was expecting, waking up with Jane in my arms; awkwardness maybe, tension, a raging hard on? I bit my lip as her soft thigh grazed my member. Okay, so at least one of those things came true. Sometime in the middle of the night, I'd shifted onto my back and Jane sprawled herself over me like an extra blanket – a very chilly blanket. Even her forehead, tucked neatly under my chin, was freezing. I smirked, pulling her closer. My body was more furnace than icebox anyway.

The woman in question stirred, mumbling a frustrated string of non-cohesive words. We were morning people by nature but I sensed in her the same reluctance coursing through my own body. Neither of us wanted to leave our bed today. I started slightly, causing Jane to scoot even closer.

 _Our bed_. It was such a little thing, a turn of phrase, which meant nothing and everything. How easy it was to think of things as ours. Our bed, our job, our life. When had all this happened? When had we gone from partners in work to partners in life in my mind? Jane trailed one hand across my bare chest as I tried vainly to recall the moment. Things had certainly changed when I realized Jane was Taylor, but that wasn't it. It had to be that night at the safe house. The night Jane said I was her starting point.

"We should probably get up," she mumbled, pressing her lips against my skin. She was right of course. With the sound of my alarm was the realization I would have to face Mayfair today. Learning about Project Daylight had in one fell swoop destroyed every bit of trust I had in my superior. I had no idea how I was going to handle working with her now that I knew she was dirty. I rolled onto my side, my gaze following Jane as she padded toward my bathroom. How was I supposed to trust her with Jane? She could sell us out to Carter for all I knew.

"Coming?"

She glanced back at me over her shoulder as she began to discard first the boxers then her shirt. This was definitely complicated.

* * *

We didn't speak on the ride to work – today we didn't need to – and what would we say if we tried? A shower, something so simple and necessary, had been transformed into something incredibly intimate. I didn't like showering with other people. Allie and I'd tried once, but all I'd felt back then was reservation. Showers were for washing, for thinking, not for nonstop chatter or awkward sexual advances. I smiled, as Jane took my free hand into her own. Maybe that last bit had been my fault; I never felt comfortable enough with Allie.

"We're here."

Jane sighed softly, untangling our hands. The announcement was unnecessary, but we needed to separate personal from professional. It was going to be an incredibly long day, Jane just didn't know it yet. She didn't know about Mayfair, about the potential danger she posed, and I hadn't wanted to ruin whatever was happening last night. This morning however was a different story; my priority was protecting her and the team.

So when we walked up the steps to the Bureau I made sure to ignore the sense of magnetism between us. I kept my distance in the elevator, even though my body was itching to touch her one last time. Jane didn't say anything, but she was fidgeting an awful lot more than usual. Our eyes met for a second and my mind flashed back to the shower. The way she'd gazed intently in my eyes as she soaped each part of my body, almost reverently. She hadn't been fidgety then. She quickly glanced away as if recalling the same memory. For such a skilled, beautiful woman, she was incredibly awkward. And it was more than a little endearing.

Thankfully the doors opened before I could say anything to break the tension. It was better this way. Too much familiarity would gain attention, people would start asking questions, and I'd be forced to make a difficult decision – Jane or her case. Mayfair already tried to get me off the case once, knowing what I did now there was no way I'd allow that to happen. If that meant distancing myself from Jane, I'd do what I had to do until I knew she was safe. I strode toward Mayfair's office, leaving Jane alone in my wake. My only choice was to hope that at the end of the day she understood.


	5. Chapter 5

I expected Weller to distance himself at work. The man was all about self-control and maintaining it under stressful situations. I imagined balancing his duty to the bureau and his interest in me would qualify as stressful. But did he have to do it so well? Even when I was trying to concentrate on the cop we'd pulled in for questioning, it took all my willpower not to look at him. I found it hard to listen to what the woman was saying – not to imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, the hard planes of his stomach against my back, the feel of his thick morning wood pressing insistently against my inner thighs.

"Here."

I jumped, glancing up at him guiltily. Not that he noticed, the man had been distracted all day, and not by thoughts of me. I'd tried to stay out of his way as best I could but that was no easy feat.

"Oh, thank you"

Weller handed me a steaming cup of coffee, before taking the seat next to me. He looked troubled. I took a sip, glancing at him over the rim. Distracted as I was, it hadn't escaped my notice that he'd been at odds with Mayfair all morning. Even now, as we sat together sipping coffee, he was staring at her through the open blinds of her office. I wished he'd tell me what was wrong instead of stewing about it. Although the way his jaw flexed did make my stomach quiver.

"What's going on with you and Mayfair?"

Weller shook his head, his eyes flicking to the computer screen and back. There it was again – clench, unclench, clench, unclench.

"Nothing."

I frowned. It clearly wasn't 'nothing'; he was sitting there like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring out at any moment. I hated that he didn't feel comfortable telling me. How was this ever going to be anything more than a work partnership if he didn't even trust me enough to tell me what was bothering him?

"Are we friends? "

I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. Uncomplicated, that's what we were shooting for. But there was nothing uncomplicated about his stare. He was a man torn and it had something to do with whatever he and Mayfair were fighting about. If only he trusted me enough to tell me what was going on.

"Of course"

 _Don't look at me like that_. His stare was unwavering, as if the answer was obvious. And maybe it was, but the closer we got the more intensely I felt the distance between us. He said he wanted me, but wanting was not the same as caring – as loving. _Loving_. Where the hell did that come from? I steeled myself, forcing myself to focus on the matter at hand. I'd think about whether or not I was ready to be loved another time.

"Well you know everything there is to know about me but you hardly ever sh – "

I trail off, hating the burning in my throat that made my voice wobble like I was on the edge of tears. I sounded weak, whining about being friends, but it was the truth. If he wanted me in any way, he needed to bring down those walls, at least for me. I didn't need him to tell me his every thought, but I needed to know we trusted each other. Wanting to be in control was one thing, I could respect that at work – being emotionally unavailable though that was something else altogether.

"I want to help."

He glanced down at the desk between us, and back up at my face. He wasn't going to tell me. I could see it written in his face, in the tense way he held himself, as if bracing to break terrible news. I knew it was coming and yet the words still stung when he said them.

"I can't really talk about it"

Of course not. You talk about your problems with the people you feel closest to: confidantes, lovers, family. It was becoming more and more obvious as the day wore on that I was none of those things to him. My eyes watered and I turned away, hoping he didn't notice. Last night was an aberration, not a promise. He wanted me, his body betrayed that truth, but that said nothing of his heart. I exhaled as he continued to stare at me, analyzing each expression that crossed my face. I was an open book that only he could read. Last night I thought that was a good thing, now I wasn't so sure.

"What do you do if someone you trusted let's you down?"

The question shocked me. A week ago Weller would've given me – and himself – space after a flicker of tension. I let out a shaky breath, turning to look up at him. His face was a mask, completely unreadable, except for his eyes. They implore me to answer even though he has succeeded in confusing me yet again. He was trying – testing out our new situation.

"Well if it's forgivable, I think you forgive her."

He knew what I had to say, and he knew I was right, but Weller was stubborn. It was going to take more than one car ride to forgive whatever Mayfair did.


	6. Chapter 6

I rolled onto my stomach reaching out unconsciously for Jane's cold body, but she wasn't there. For a second I forgot why – forgot how I'd pushed her away – forgot how I told her I changed my mind. It didn't have to be this way. I didn't have to tell her I was interested in getting back with Allie. It was a lie and we both knew it, but I felt like I needed to give her a reason. I couldn't look into those watery green eyes and tell her what was really holding me back. Jane would just convince me it was going to be okay, and because she was my ultimate weakness I'd believe her. I'd willingly let her wear me down.

"Ugh." I groaned, flipping over and glancing at the clock on my bedside table.

She should be here, should be wrapped around me, instead I was alone nursing the beginnings of a massive hangover. How could I tell her that seeing her in that dress had wiped all thoughts of Allie from my brain? Slipping the wedding ring on her finger was the one and only time I'd ever considered the possibility of marriage. But I couldn't tell her that – couldn't tell her that it never even crossed my mind to drop the ring in her hand.

I flipped back onto my stomach, burying my face in her pillow. Today had been a strange swirl of emotions: excitement, fear, sadness. For one day I allowed myself to imagine Jane as my wife – and it felt good. _Too good_. I closed my eyes, trying vainly to stop thinking of her. Pretending to be her husband had been all too easy. And maybe that was part of the problem. The possessiveness of her body, the easy flirtation, the dancing – all of it had come so naturally.

It was obvious I wasn't going to sleep until I spoke to Jane, made it up to her, made her understand. Not even a week ago she'd told me no one had ever let her down. I hoped she was in as forgiving a mood. After the call from Mayfair, effectively ending Jane's housewarming party, we all ended up at the hospital. That was the moment I knew I couldn't do it. I saw Patterson receive the news, saw her breakdown, and I knew I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that call.

So I pulled away, I went home, I drank. A stupid decision, one I wouldn't have made if I could stop picturing those eyes. I could only imagine how she felt after being treated like a yo-yo. One minute I was telling her we needed to be impartial and the next I was soaping her long limbs up in my shower. Our relationship was complicated but I was making it harder than it had to be.

I wasn't the type of man to make a commitment lightly. I weighed each decision carefully, I followed my gut, and I didn't look back. _So what are you doing_? What was I doing? I groaned again, throwing her pillow across the bed. My gut said all the choosiness over the years was for a reason – in Jane I'd finally found my match. Now I just needed to make the commitment. It wasn't going to be easy, Jane was my weakness now, but I had to find a productive way to deal with it. Or else I'd be putting us both in danger, just like Zapata suggested.

* * *

Jane wasn't at her desk or in the locker room. She wasn't talking to Mayfair or training in the gym. And just for a moment I felt a sense of panic – maybe she'd taken my words to heart and took off. _Except the agents assigned to her protection detail area already checked in_. I was about to call them in to help with the search when I finally found Jane in the evidence locker. Her eyes were a little puffy and she had her back to me like she hadn't even heard me come in.

I admired her for a moment as she dug through her box – playing with the zipper of the bag we found her in, flipping over the tag instructing whoever found it to call the FBI. She was plagued by guilt; I could see it on her face.

"What are you doing down here?"

She could barely look at me as we talked. It took every inch of my self-control not to lift her up onto that table and kiss her until she stopped talking nonsense. I told her not to blame herself, not that it was any use; Jane would do what she wanted. It was one of the things I loved about her. God I wanted nothing more than to kiss those trembling lips, but I knew that wouldn't go over well without an apology. Instead I took her hands in mine, and was more than a little grateful when she didn't pull away.

Jane didn't hold a grudge like I did. And for that I was eternally grateful.


	7. Chapter 7

I thought focusing on the search for David's killer would lessen my feelings of guilt, thought it would provide welcome distraction to the pain of losing Weller, but it didn't. Instead it made me reckless; it had me chasing after a Russian agent on my own, unconcerned that there was no one to save me if things went south. The truth was, I'd forgiven Weller for his cold dismissal last night but I couldn't forget it. The same way I couldn't forget that no matter what anyone said, David's blood was on my hands. The only reason he was in that library was because he was trying to solve the riddle of my tattoos, I'd been the only thing standing in the way of he and Patterson living a long and happy life together.

So I followed Kate up to the bridge, knowing I could get to her before Weller or the others. I struggled with her, every punch I landed I thought of David, and every punch she landed I thought of Weller. I needed it, needed the pain that only physical violence could grant. Pain meant I was still alive, though for a moment there I wasn't sure if I wanted to be. When Kate got out the needle a small part of me was almost…grateful.

If I were dead and out of the way, my friends would no longer be in danger. Kurt would no longer be in danger. I closed my eyes for just a moment as she pressed the needle closer, cringing even as a part of me begged for the sweet release of death. And then he was there – pulling Kate off me – flinging her into the water. He looked at me then, searching my face for the truth. He must have known what I was thinking because he quickly tore his eyes away to stare at Kate's body floating in the river.

"Jane –"

"Don't."

But Weller was better at giving orders than following them. He pulled me into his arms, ignoring my show of resistance.

"Jane," he whispered softly, his lips pressed against my forehead, "I don't know what I would do if you ever left me."

I stifled a bitter laugh. I knew he didn't mean to be cruel. Didn't mean to brush aside everything he said yesterday. Weller was just saying what was in his heart, in this moment. And therein was the problem; we were always good together in the moments in between. But if we were ever going to be anything more, if it was ever going to work he had to decide what was most important – the rules or us.

* * *

We didn't speak the entire ride back to the office or afterward. Despite the comfort I took from him after Kate's death, and he from me – the anger and guilt were still so raw for both of us. I blamed him for crushing what could have been the closest I'd come to loving since my memories were erased and he blamed me for putting myself in danger.

I was sure the tension between us, even as the team dealt with Patterson, was palpable. I couldn't make eye contact with Weller during the debriefing; I didn't want to see the feelings lying there in wait. David's death and the resulting chaos had shaken me to the very core – shaken my trust in Weller and this new life I'd made. Just as everything was becoming stable, my world had been turned upside down.

And yet, holding Patterson in my arms as she mourned the love of her life, there was nothing I wanted more than to see him again. She was right of course. It just didn't make sense for two people who worked so well together to spend all their time looking for reasons not to be together. And yet wasn't that what Weller and I were best at? Pushing away feelings, building barriers between us, driving ourselves crazy. And for what?

The odds were not stacked in our favor, they never had been; sooner or later one of us would get hurt amid all this puzzle solving. What if Weller had been the one to die instead of David? My heart ached at the thought. Would I have held up as well as Patterson? Would I have been strong enough to search for his killer _? You would have murdered her yourself_. My subconscious was right of course; I would murder anyone who laid a hand on him without a second thought.

"Hey."

I glanced up from my clenched hands, watching as Kurt came into view with a bag of groceries. There was something heart-warming about seeing him so domesticated.

"Everything all right?" He gave me a once over, looking for any sign of a problem. "

"Where's your detail"

"Um" Lying wasn't my strong suit and he wouldn't believe me anyway. "I snuck out"

I watched his brows knit together in frustration. Clearly he thought I had a death wish. _Maybe it has something to do with that run in with Kate earlier_. I bit my lip, standing and meeting him halfway. I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms as he had earlier. This time, I promised myself, I wouldn't resist him. I would allow him to kiss me as he'd wanted to on the ship. Would allow him to declare whatever feelings he had for me without reservation.

I wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much I needed him, how much the events of the last few days had rattled me. But instead I listened. If I were honest with myself the lecture was one I knew was coming. He on the other hand had no preparation for the kiss. He moved slowly at first, unsure, and then I felt his lips move beneath mine, deepening the kiss.

"I just um," I paused, drinking in his features, "I wanted a moment that was just…us."

For a moment I thought he would reject me again. He'd mastered the ability to keep his expression perfectly schooled; an ability he'd put to the test as he studied my face. But then almost as soon as it appeared the mask dropped; he smirked down at me, his arm around my waist tightening as I captured his lips again. The kiss was different than the first or any we'd shared prior. It was all encompassing, it was knowing, it contained all the words we'd meant to say over the last few weeks but hadn't felt able to.

 _In this moment I know that I have made the right decision._

 _In this moment I know that I have nothing to fear._

 _In this moment I am loved._


End file.
